


Snow in the Valley

by Talullah



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 10:19:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17078489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talullah/pseuds/Talullah
Summary: Elrond is tired but is happy with an unexpected visit.





	Snow in the Valley

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fragiledewdrop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fragiledewdrop/gifts).



> Many thanks to Alex Cat for the beta.
> 
> Written for fragiledewdrop, for the 2018 LotRSeSa.

**Imladris, Third Age, 130**

 

Exhaustion threatened to drown Elrond. The babies were adorable, his wife was patient, lovely and extremely apt as a mother, but still they cried and had to be fed and changed in the hours before dawn, every single night. Erestor kept reminding him that both in the Noldo and in the Sinda tradition, the children of noble parents were cared for by wet nurses. Maybe it was his Mannish side, but Elrond would not entertain the thought of a stranger caring for his little boys. 

Neither would Celebrían, for that matter. The babies were three months old now, and the worst of the colics had gone by now. Oh, those nights and days, when one could not close an eye for a second! His rosy Celebrían turned pale with heavy dark circles under her beautiful eyes… Him, falling asleep mid meetings, mid meals… even that one time in the bath, when he woke with a start and his nose and throat full of water.

Parenthood, for all its delights and sheer happiness, was not for the feeble.

He walked to a window, glad that he had taken the better half of an hour to nap, even knowing that the paperwork would accumulate. Erestor, again, told him he was wrong in this, that Imladris was perfectly fine, all the wheels perfectly oiled to keep spinning without his presence for a while. He would have none of it. Imladris was his first baby, his haven, made with his bare hands, his sweat, his blood even. He could not relinquish it to another and forget his duty.

Yet, when he looked through the glass, he saw white. Not a lot, just a fine dust, so fine that most of the green was still visible. With a jolt, he reached, instinctively to his chest, to where Vilya was supposed to hang. It was still there. Looking out, with relief, he realized that he had not thought of the weather in a long time, not with the intention and focus he had to think to keep it mild. It had been his absent mindedness that had caused snow to fall on Imladris. With a sigh, he walked through the corridors, into the courtyard, to assess the extension of the fall.

The fountain had icicles and a few elflings laughed as they made paltry snowballs. It was cold, the kind of cold he had not felt since he lived in Fornost, in Gil-galad’s court. It actually felt good and he entertained the idea of letting it go on for a few more days.

From the corner of his eye, he detected a movement. Slowly, he turned, attuned to some strange familiarity. Someone stood in the shadows, far back near the entrance to the armory. A good choice if one wanted discretion as, fortunately, Imladris had been at peace for a while. A nightingale sounded, but it was a winter morning. It was a very familiar sign, though. 

“Maglor?” Elrond whispered to himself. “It cannot be.”

He walked straight to the shadows. Exhausted as he was, he still could feel that the presence was not malignant, and if it were, he had not yet forgotten how to fight.

A pair of welcoming arms received him. 

“It is you!” Elrond exclaimed.

“Hush, child,” Maglor replied.

Elrond tightened the hug. They remained there for a long while, before drawing apart.

“It has been a long time,” Elrond said. “I didn’t even know if you were still alive.”

Maglor nodded. “I know. I was out in the East.”

“Let me insist – why don’t you come and live in Imladris.”

Maglor smiled fondly and squeezed Elrond’s should. “Always so persistent. Before we start our usual argument, no, I will not live under a false name, I have the ones that my mother and father gave me, and besides, even here in the valley there are people who would still know me. And no, I will not live here, forcing them to accept me, just because time has passed and you think I have atoned enough. And besides, with the years out in the wilderness, I have found out that I like to be free.”

Elrond opened his mouth but did not reply. Ever since he had come to Imladris and started building a refuge that later became a sanctuary for all that sought it, that he had tried to persuade Maglor to join them. It pained him that one so dear to him, so rich in talent and kindness, despite all of his misdeeds, lived alone, roaming throughout middle-earth, finding company only with the elves and the men of the far north, or now out in the east. But Maglor was stubborn.

“I see you have snow this year. The elflings are having a ball.”

Elrond nodded. “I was distracted.”

“So, a fortunate accident.” Maglor smiled, watching the children play.

“Remember that time when Elros threw you a snowball but there was a pebble inside and it made a gash in your forehead?”

Elrond raised his fingers to the imperceptible scar the accident had left. “You were furious” he said, chortling.

“I was. It was the first time that I spanked either of you.”

“It was the only time,” Elrond corrected.

“I knew he had not done it on purpose but I was so scared, you, lying in the ground, unconscious, pale as the snow and all that blood, so red...”

“Bygones. It was just a slap in the butt.”

Maglor shook his head. “Bygones. But Maedhros was furious with me for that reaction. And he was right. Is it funny that this lies among my greatest regrets ?”

Elrond squeezed Maglor’s arm. “It is endearing. We loved you very much. Elros too, despite all his constant defiance.”

He looked back to the elflings. “This year there are more elflings in Imladris. They’re not yet old enough to walk, let alone play in the snow.”

“I know.” Maglor grinned. “It is why I came.” He fumbled in his rucksack until he found a parcel. “Here, for your little boys.”

Elrond took the parcel, lifting an eyebrow. “How do you know everything that goes on in this valley? I am always amazed.”

Maglor grinned. “I still know a thing or two about scouting, spying, and so on. Speaking of that, I have something for you.” He reached into the inner pockets of his coat and produced a rolled pergamin. 

Elrond stood with both hands full. “Well, let’s come inside and you’ll meet my twins and I’ll have a chance to look at both these gifts.”

“I appreciate it but-”

“No ‘buts’ this time, Maglor, please… It is near Yule, they are my children, I have not seen you in ages, it is very cold outside this valley, and I miss you.” Elrond said firmly. “You are the closest thing I have to a father, even if you have never let me use the word.”

Maglor hesitated but then he nodded. “Alright. Is there a back passage?”

Elrond grinned. “Ah, so there is something that you do not know, after all!”

He led Maglor through the back of the edifice, following empty corridors until they were in Elrond’s rooms.

“Celebrían, darling,” Elrond called in a hushed tone as he entered.

Celebrían looked up, startled from her slumber.

“I beg your pardon, lady,” Maglor said, “I am perturbing your rest.”

“Maglor!” Celebrían, despite her tiredness, rose to her feet, immediately awake and ready. “What a nice surprise.”

They had met twice before, when Maglor had visited Galadriel in Ost-en-Edhil, when he and Galadriel had made a desperate attempt to get some sense into Celebrimbor’s head, and later in Imladris, when Celebrían had wedded Elrond. There was mutual fondness, though not much intimacy yet.

“Come and meet my boys,” she said, pulling him by the hand, until they were next to the crib.

“My,” Maglor said upon looking at the sleeping babies. “My, my,” he repeated, his voice thick with emotion. Both Celebrían and Elrond grinned, their eyes shining just as bright as Maglor’s.

He softly ran a knuckle over the downy black hair covering their heads. “They are gorgeous! And so big! They can’t be just three months old!”

Elrond grinned. “They are beautiful, aren’t they?”

“An understatement. They are jewels. Precious, incredible.” 

Maglor took Elrond into a deep, long hug. Behind them, Celebrían watched, placing a tender hand on the back of her husband.

“I am so glad you came,” she said, when at last Elrond and Maglor separated.

“I am glad too,” Maglor said.

Elrond smiled, looking around him, the four people he loved the most gathered in one warm, safe room. Suddenly, he did not feel tired anymore. He would find some way to convince Maglor stay for the Yule festivities, he would let a little bit more snow fall on the valley, for the elflings’ benefit, he would have the whole Hall of Fire decorated with lights and scented with pine, and all that cinnamon from the south that the cook had been saving would now be used for cakes and cider.

And above all, there would be love for everyone, love, hope and peace.

Finis  
December 2018


End file.
